


Stranger

by orphan_account



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 17:48:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2437595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>GrimmIchi, delivery boy, making out in the elevator.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stranger

     Ichigo fingered the brim of his cap and sighed. He hadn’t wanted this job, but it was the only solution left. His father had broken his leg and just couldn’t keep up with the clinic these days despite his high energy, so Ichigo wanted out of the house. A homebound, eccentric father was a nightmare. Earning some money to get his family through without dipping into savings was just the bonus. He tugged the clipboard out from under his arm and peered at the next name on the list. Kuchiki, Rukia, apartment number 67. It meant nothing to him. He shrugged and hefted the package under his other arm as the elevator finally ground to a halt. Six floors had never taken so long. His perpetual scowl deepened as he observed the opulence the elevator doors opened to. Practically orchestral ceilings. He slouched to the specified apartment number, and knocked. “Karakura Kisuke’s Kitty Delivery Service…” he droned. Working for the old guy in the striped hat was really a pain. And the name stank to high heaven. However, it seemed today was Ichigo’s lucky day. The door opened to an _extremely_ tall man with a blue shock of hair dressed in an impeccably tailored suit and a half undone tie. Ichigo couldn’t help but stare the man up and down, and his scowl lightened as his eyebrows raised. _Damn._ If anyone deserved such a rich apartment complex, it was this guy.

     The man grinned ferociously, seemingly finished with his surveying of Ichigo and observing the young man’s perusal of him as well. “Don’t think I ordered anything… but I wouldn’t mind accepting this once.” Ichigo shivered and his eyes snapped to bright teal ones, a mortified flush creeping over his cheeks. _Hell yes._ Oh, hell no. Damn perverts were everywhere, and just ‘cause this one was hot didn’t make him any different. It shouldn’t, anyway.

     “Great, if you could just sign here, Mr. Ku-“

     “Aw, don’t be like that, kitten.” The man’s feral grin widened as he gripped the door frame. Ichigo just couldn’t help himself, his eyes strayed up capable muscled arms to those big, big hands that seemed- “I don’t know who sent you, but you look like you’re really good at your job. Get that ass in here and help me relax. I have a lot of frustration to get out.” It took Ichigo a second to process exactly what this man thought he was, and then it took another to spin on his heel and hoof it to the elevator. He pressed the button furiously when he reached it, his face bright red and scowl firmly back in place, and looked back to see the man left at his doorway finally let go of his grin, have the temerity to look shocked, and then furious. _Furious._ Like he had the right! But Ichigo didn’t have time to debate the man’s right to be mad at _him,_ the victim, as he swiftly approached the slowly closing elevator doors. Ichigo wished them to close faster, slammed his eyes shut and wished for it, but was let down as the doors slid back open to reveal the stranger. Ichigo peered out to see the man seething, almost growling at him. “Listen, I don’t know if this is your first rodeo, kid, you do seem a little young, but at least get the job done before you run away.”

     Ichigo found his voice to practically yell out “Sir, you said you didn’t order the package. Clearly there was a mistake and I’ll just take it back to the office-“ Ichigo was interrupted by the man. By his lips, to be exact. On his. The man was kissing him. In the elevator. Ichigo had time to bless the fact that they were six stories up and it was a very slow elevator before he dropped both the clipboard and the box to wind his fingers in that so-soft blue hair. The man hummed with satisfaction and Ichigo responded by trying to get closer, to mold himself into the slight millimeters between them. The man obliged by thrusting a leg between Ichigo’s, dragging him further up the wall of the elevator. Those large hands were dislodging his ball cap, threading one hand into spiky tangerine locks to shield his head from the hard wall and freeing the other to grasp him by the hip to try and pull him even closer. The only way that was going to happen was without his clothes on. That able tongue was battling with his own, struggling for a dominance that didn’t matter to either of them. Ichigo spared no thought to it when the man’s hand splayed enticingly over his ass, his thumb snagging the waistband of his tight jeans and dragging down. He hadn’t had any doubts about his sexuality for a long time, but never considered himself the type to practically have sex in an elevator. He separated from the other male long enough to gasp out something along those lines, and then the man pulled away abruptly, leaving Ichigo panting against the wall of the elevator.

     “Wait, so you’re actually a delivery guy?” The bluenette slumped against the opposite wall of the elevator, looking both defeated and aroused with a bemused grin.

     Ichigo raised his eyebrows and smirked. “Yeah.” He tried to squash the evil, white bit inside of him that drooled over the fact that the other was just as out of breath as he was, and failed. Mocha eyes roamed over the man’s messy hair, the tie hopelessly trailing, and the obvious tent in his tailored pants. Ichigo licked his lips and met teal eyes performing a similar possessive survey.

     The doors chimed open and both men jumped. Ichigo colored at the flash to reality and stooped to pick up the items he had dropped and shoved on his dislodged cap, intent on escaping into the street and to the motorcycle waiting a block away. The teal-eyed male made to move after him, arm outstretched, but a crowd of businessmen flocked past him and he lost track of the kid with the ball cap, so much harder to find than a head of bright orange.

 

     Grimmjow ran a hand through his hair and snarled at his secretary, Nel. “I need a day off. Soon.” She smiled good-naturedly and patted his arm.

     “I have something that will make you feel betterrrr!” She sang the words, as if Grimmjow’s splitting headache needed the reminder. “In fact, why don’t you just take off early today? Make it a long weekend? I think you’ll need it when you see what’s in h-ee-re.” She waggled a manilla folder enticingly in Grimmjow’s face, snatching it away when he reached for it. “Nu-uh. Not until you promise you’re going to go right now.”

     Grimm wondered to himself how Neliel made such a good secretary when she was so childish, but didn’t want to question it. If she thought this was going to make him forget the dual troubles of the killer contract with Kuchiki Construction and the little spitfire orange-haired kid that had gotten away last week, he would trust her. He nodded his agreement and shut his laptop. “So? Hand it over.”

     She handed over the documents with a flourish and giggled at his wide eyes and wider smirk. She leaned in close to whisper to him, “And he’s over twenty-one, too.”

 

     Ichigo sighed darkly for what felt like the fiftieth time this week. He hadn’t wanted to explain what happened to Urahara, so he had just muttered something about an emergency and dumped the package into the outgoing pile. The object that brought about the short-lived rendezvous might have been long gone, but a week later he still catches himself fantasizing about the blue-haired man far too often for comfort. Ichigo shouldered his backpack and waved goodbye to Urahara, who called out “Oh, Ichi dear, I meant to tell you…” But Ichigo was already out the door and Kisuke grinned from under his hat after him. “Oh, well. He’ll figure it out soon enough."

     Ichigo approached his bike outside the shipping store, muttering about guys too hot for their own good under his breath.

     “Nice bike.” Ichigo whirled around at the familiar voice and came face-to-face with the same man he had just been imagining. As he gaped at the bluenette, the other man reached out his hand to shake Ichigo’s. As the two strangers touched, that same heat reached between caramel and electric blue eyes. “The name’s Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez.”

     The slim shorter man replied with a slow, sweet, rare smile and, “Ichigo Kurosaki. Nice to meet you.”


End file.
